Healing Hands
by bravevulnerability
Summary: 'Her hand flies to his forehead before she even realizes what she's doing, but his damp skin and fevered flesh steal her attention from the meaning behind her unplanned touch and that familiar worry uncoils from its hiding place inside her stomach.' In which a cold tests the boundaries of Castle and Beckett's partnership. Season 4 AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This originally began as nothing more than a product of an awful cold that I came down with recently, but quickly grew into something quite a bit longer than I had expected. Hopefully, it's not as dreadful as I felt while writing it.

 **Set mid season 4.**

* * *

When Beckett returns from her interrogation with their suspect, she notices the empty chair at the side of her desk has been filled by its owner. Her heart hastens at the sight, a smile spreading across her lips without her permission, and it's silly, especially if she considers the fact that she sees him practically every single day, but when he had failed to answer her usual call for a body in the morning, she hadn't expected for him to show up today. She'd even been irrationally worried at the lack of response, so to be proven wrong now is for once a pleasant surprise.

"Hey Castle," she greets, allowing herself the brush of her hand to his shoulder as she passes. "Didn't think you were coming in."

Kate glances up from her desk chair at his lack of answer, her brow creased at the unusual silence, but once she finally sees him, it all makes sense.

His bleary eyes blink, struggling to focus on her, but once they find her, they flicker with light, dull but alive in the pale blue of his irises.

"Beckett, sorry I'm late," he croaks, attempting to clear his throat, ending up in a coughing fit instead.

Kate flicks her gaze towards Gates' office, relieved to see the blinds shut tight, and slips into her seat, rolling her chair in closer to Castle's.

Her hand flies to his forehead before she even realizes what she's doing, but his damp skin and fevered flesh steal her attention from the meaning behind her unplanned touch and that familiar worry uncoils from its hiding place inside her stomach.

"Castle, you're burning up," she murmurs, withdrawing her hand, but keeping her eyes on the deflated man in front of her.

"Not so bad yourself," he quips, quirking his brow for her, but it does nothing to mask the misery lining his bloodshot eyes and flushed skin.

"You have a fever," she corrects, grabbing his knee in hopes of holding his fading attention. "You barely look like you can sit up. What are you doing here?"

"Partners," he shrugs, practically slurs. "I wanted to help solve the case and I feel _fine_."

Kate rolls her eyes and slides open her bottom desk drawer, already digging for her keys.

"Hey Castle," she hears Ryan announce from behind, trotting up to her desk with a triumphant grin.

"Did you see Beckett and I crack that guy wide open?"

"I missed it?" he whines, slumping forward and dropping his head to rest on the edge of her desk.

Ryan cocks his head in confusion. "What's wrong with him?"

"He's sick," she mutters, fishing for her car keys and rising from her chair. "And now I have to take him home."

"It's just a small head cold, Beckett," Castle protests from the pillow of his forearm. "I don't need to go home."

"I'll be back for the paperwork," she informs Ryan, but her coworker waves her off.

"Don't worry about that, just get Castle out of here before he infects us all."

"I'm not contagious," Castle adds on a huff, eliciting a smirk that curls along her lips while she coils her fingers at his elbow, tugging until he finally relents and sits up.

"C'mon Castle, might as well let me escort you out before Gates sees you and lectures us all."

"Should I tell Javi to cancel your lunch order?" Ryan inquires, stepping in to help her get Castle to his feet through his grumbling protests.

"Yeah," she sighs, her concern doubling over at the shake of Castle's bones beneath her hands, the tremble of his body against her side. "I may stay with him for a while, make sure he's okay."

She expects a teasing remark to follow from Ryan, a retort about how she'll be spending her afternoon taking care of Castle, but Ryan appears just as worried as she feels when she spares a glance in his direction.

"I think that's a good idea."

She walks Castle to the elevator with relative ease, their pace slow but steady, and he sighs in relief once they're inside the lift where he can prop his body against the nearest wall.

"Okay, so maybe staying home would have been a better idea," he concedes, wincing through a swallow. "Just stick me in a cab, I'll be fine."

"No," she argues, too quick, earning a tired arch of his brow, but she doesn't care. "You can barely stand, I'm not just going to put you in a cab and assume you'll get home safely."

"But Beckett-"

"Like you just said, partners," she reminds him, feeling the heat radiating from him in waves as she steps closer. "Are Alexis and Martha home?"

His head lolls in a halfhearted shake. "Alexis has class and Mother's… not sure where she is, but the loft is empty."

Kate purses her lips, coiling her fingers around his elbow once again when the elevator doors part for them. It was still early in the day, probably hours left before his mother or daughter would return, and she really shouldn't cut out from work like this, but she could still remain on call, still rush back if she was needed.

"I'll just stick around until one of them gets back," she assures him, assisting him in the potentially perilous journey down the sidewalk to her Crown Vic.

"I'm not a kid, Beckett," he sighs, relinquishing his arm from her grasp and managing a smooth entry into the passenger side of the vehicle.

Kate rolls her eyes, a teasing quip already on the tip of her tongue, but as she watches his head fall back against the headrest of the seat, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth in a deep frown, she swallows the remark down. She had always thought if an opportunity like this ever arose, he would be all too ready to needle her with jokes about playing nurse, to use his inherited flair for dramatics to take advantage of a chance for sympathy, but right now, Richard Castle isn't playful at all. He's miserable and it's gut-wrenching to witness.

* * *

By the time they arrive at his loft after a twenty-minute drive through midday traffic, Castle has fallen asleep with his forehead smudged against the passenger window, his neck craned in a way that has to be uncomfortable. Kate sighs and unbuckles her seatbelt, unfastens his next and carefully eases her palm beneath his cheek, coaxes his head away from the window so she can free him of the safety belt.

His skin is damp beneath her hand, the heat emanating from his forehead reaching worrisome temperatures, and Kate bites her lip, brushes the sweaty ends of his hair back from his face. She needs to get him inside.

"Castle," she calls softly, lifting her other hand to aid in supporting his head, stroking her thumb along the warmed shell of his ear. "Rick, wake up."

His brow furrows and his face twists with displeasure as he swallows. "Beckett."

"Yeah," she murmurs, watching his eyes peel open to find her, so dull and hazy with exhaustion, but they come alive with recognition for her, with gratitude, and she has to remember to withdraw her hands from his fevered skin, has to remind herself to ignore the stupid, inappropriate butterflies that were born from a conversation on a swing set and have multiplied within the few months since.

"Probably should have stayed home," he rasps, having to clear his throat with great effort to clear the congestion forming there, stealing his voice.

"Probably so," Kate confers, but she offers him a small smile while his gaze is still trained on her, still clinging to the last of his coherency. "We're back at the loft now though, so come on. Let me take you inside."

"You said-" He does his best to turn away as another painful sounding coughing fit overtakes him, shaking the entirety of his frame, and she reaches for his curved spine, spreads her hand between the trembling wings of his shoulder blades. Even through the barrier of his coat, she can feel the heat radiating from beneath his clothing. "You were thinking about staying?"

He doesn't meet her eyes when the question scrapes past his lips, his unfocused gaze fluttering to the floorboards, because… oh, he doesn't expect her to stay with him. And that hurts a little, but she can't blame him. She couldn't stay for him that day in the cemetery, why would he believe she could now?

Kate inhales sharply through her nose, reins herself back in from the spiral of those dangerous thoughts, and curls her free hand around the door handle instead. She retracts her palm from his back and exits her cruiser, strides around the front of the car until she's on the passenger side and can tug open his door. Castle glances up to her in confusion, as if he isn't quite sure how she got there, but he takes the hand she extends down to him, allows her to haul him up and assist him in exiting the vehicle.

She nudges the car door shut with the toe of her boot and feels Rick's breath rattle through his chest when she bands an arm around his waist.

"I'm staying, Castle."

* * *

The nausea and dizziness roll through him in waves, turning the trek through his lobby into a wobbling struggle, her arm clenching around him each time his balance starts to waver, her hand waving him off every time he starts to mumble an apology. The journey down his hallway is a little less perilous, a lot quicker too, and once he fishes the keys from his coat pocket, she's finally able to guide him inside his home.

"Bed or the couch?" she murmurs, holding him steady as they sway in the foyer together.

His eyes keep closing, his face threatening to go slack, and Kate lifts a hand to his flushed cheek that's starting to fade into a sickly pallor, watches his eyes flare open, immediately searching.

"Hey." Blue and unfocused, but shimmering with soft delight, his gaze trips down to land on her.

"Kate. Hi," he sighs, a dopey grin managing to spread across his lips and she chuckles, smoothes her thumb along the paper thin skin beneath his eye.

"Do you want to rest on the couch for a bit? Eat something?"

Castle shakes his head once. "I don't think I can. Just – need to lie down."

"Bed it is then," she nods, rubbing her hand up and down his spine, waiting until he seems ready, steady enough to begin the walk to his bedroom.

They maneuver around his loft far easier than the rest of his building, the path he shuffles through well practiced, and she could let him go. She should probably let him go. He doesn't need the pillar of her body like a crutch at his side anymore, but she remains glued there nonetheless, up until they reach the threshold of his bedroom.

It isn't how she imagined her first time entering the most intimate space of his home, but she takes the opportunity to admire the room bathed in strips of daylight from the half closed curtains, appreciating the chance to be surprised by how much she likes the style, the subtle masculinity and underlying earth tones decorating the walls. She could picture herself here, more clearly than she ever could before.

"Beckett?"

She startles, realizes she's just been standing with him in the doorway, halting his progress towards the bed, and yeah, she _really_ should have let him go.

"Sorry," she murmurs, leading him towards the unmade bed in the middle of the room and aiding him in his descent to the side where the comforter is pulled back and the sheets are crinkled with use.

Easing his jacket from his shoulders and helping unfasten the buttons of his dress shirt that his fumbling fingers miss is not how she pictured her first time undressing him either. Even in his state of illness, she thinks Castle must share the thought, his cheeks darkening from their blotchy shade of pink to an embarrassed scarlet hue. Relief seems to trump awkwardness once he's in only his undershirt though, the cool air a welcome balm to his burning flesh.

"Do you have a thermometer? Something to take for the fever?"

Castle is already listing back against the headboard, eyes fluttering shut, but his hand twitches, lifting to point towards the en suite. She locates a bottle of Tylenol in his medicine cabinet, a thermometer in the second drawer of the vanity. He's barely coherent as she slips the thermometer past his lips and fills the glass on his bedside table with fresh water while she waits for his temperature to be revealed.

"Jeez, Castle," she mutters to herself when the stick beeps from his mouth.

102.5 is just shy of a high grade fever.

Kate withdraws the thermometer, sets it down on his nightstand for now, trading it in for the water and pill bottle instead. She has to hold his chin up while he swallows, even as he raises his hand to support the glass. His movements are too slow, too sluggish and uncoordinated, as if he no longer holds the control over his own limbs.

"Just a cold," he insists while she helps him lie down. "Be fine, Beckett."

She notices too late that she is in the process of tucking him in, pulling the soft fabric of the comforter up to his shoulders and stroking his dampened hair back from his slack face. He tilts into her touch, hums low in his throat and snakes his hand from beneath the covers to loosely cradle the back of her hand.

"But don't go," he sighs, his eyes slitting open to stare up at her, tired but so adoring. "Don't want you to go."

His inhibitions are lowered, she knows that, knows he likely won't remember half of what he's said to her today, but her heart still cracks at the gentle pleading in his strained voice, the trace of hope that fades all too quickly. She hadn't intended to leave in the first place, hadn't wanted to, but now her decision has been solidified.

Kate crouches at his bedside and leans forward, pressing her lips to his forehead. His skin is scorching, but she lingers there, breathes past the scent of sweat and impending sleep clinging to his flesh, breathes in the familiar comforts of coffee and his aftershave still present beneath the layer of fever.

"I'm staying, Castle," she promises, feeling the rise and fall of his chest begin to even out, his breath flowing in a steady rhythm past his parted lips. "Not going anywhere."


	2. Chapter 2

While he sleeps, she reads.

Crawling into bed alongside him probably crossed quite a few lines, defied the unspoken rules that came with waiting, but the idea of lounging around in his home while he slept made her uncomfortable. And the unoccupied side of his bed had called to her, so warm and welcoming with him only inches away, and so after a brief browse through his bookshelves, she carefully climbed onto the mattress, remaining atop the barrier of blankets, and settled her back against the headboard with the steaming line of his body pressed to her side.

She loses track of time like this, turning pages of a novel with one set of fingers, tracing senseless patterns on the wide expanse of his back with the other, mapping the contours of his shoulder blades and the knobs of his vertebrae. It isn't until Castle lurches awake beside her that she is awoken from the tranquility of two hours spent reclined in his bed.

He hastily untangles himself from the sheets as he stumbles out of the bed and her hand falls from his back to the abandoned mattress space, damp with sweat and warm with body heat.

"Castle?"

But he's already staggering into his bathroom, nearly tripping over his own feet, and Kate quickly drops her book, bounds from the mattress to follow. The reason for his race to the other room resounds through the tiled walls before she can even step foot inside, the sound of vomiting harsh and immediate, and she winces, contemplates whether or not he would want her in there with him. She knows she wouldn't want him there if the positions were reversed, but she and Castle are very different, especially when it comes to having a caretaker.

She repels the attention, the care and concern that comes with being looked after, but Castle thrives on it, appreciates the tangible TLC almost as much as he loves giving it. He needs her there, needs someone around to take care of him for once, and she so badly wants to be what he needs.

"Castle?" she repeats when the retching comes to a pause, slipping inside to see him slumped beside the toilet, his cheek against the wall and his arms curled around his abdomen.

The misery is back on his face, prominent in the hunched figure of his body, and by the looks of it, he isn't finished. She descends to her haunches beside him as he's forced back to his knees, places a hand to his shoulder while he empties what's left in his system. It can't be much, because within seconds he's dry heaving, completely dehydrated.

His t-shirt is sticking to his pale skin once he's finally able to lean back into the wall, breathing shallow and with eyes squeezed shut. Kate allows him a moment of rest, imagines his entire body must be aching, his stomach muscles likely in agony, but after too many minutes of silence, she dusts her fingertips to his temple.

"Shouldn't be in here." His throat is scraped raw and his words are nothing more than a raspy mumble, but he forces an eye open to see her, even attempts a smile that unfortunately falls flat. "Don't want to get you sick. And this is gross."

Kate huffs, allows her fingers to trickle down to his neck. He's still warm, but the medication has helped him cool a few degrees, his skin no longer clammy and boiling with fever.

"I deal with dead bodies for a living, you think I can't handle seeing my partner puke?" she teases, the uninvited butterflies back with fervor at the hint of a smile he successfully manages for her this time. "You should probably eat something soon, if you think you can handle it."

His face scrunches at the idea, the expression adorable, childlike.

"Soup?" she tries, grazing her thumb back and forth over the dull thud of his pulse. "I can order it from that café you like."

His head lolls back towards the wall, the cool tile against his cheek spreading like relief through his features. "Okay, my wallet's in my coat pocket."

"Okay, Castle," she murmurs, digging her phone out from the pocket of her jeans and dialing the number for the café they often go to for lunch runs. She stays with him on the bathroom floor until the doorbell rings, proceeds to withdraw a twenty dollar bill from her purse when the delivery boy arrives with the soup and a couple of sandwiches she ordered for later.

Their food remains on the counter, though, while Castle remains on the floor, unable to venture far from the toilet bowl in fear of upheaving the last of his insides. But after nearly an hour and a half on the bathroom floor, Kate helps him to his feet, using the nearby wall for help when he sways dangerously far to one side. She sometimes forget how big Castle is, how tall and broad, and how small she can feel in comparison. It isn't the time to appreciate the height difference, not when he could effortlessly take her to the ground because of it, but she doesn't exactly mind the way she fits in his arms now that her heels are kicked off on the floor near his bed.

"Do you need to sit back down?" she asks, gritting her teeth to support his weight, but Rick merely clutches her shoulders, attempts to steady himself with a set jaw and eyes slammed shut.

"No," he croaks, loosening his grip on her bones, smoothing his fingers there in apology as his eyelids peel back. "Just needed a second. Need to brush my teeth too," he adds, slicking his tongue over the front row of his teeth and cringing in result.

Beckett suppresses her laugh for his sake and lets him go when he shuffles for the bathroom sink, bending over the sink to splash some water on his face before he snags his toothbrush. They migrate to the couch next, where Castle manages to consume a few spoonfuls of the chicken noodle soup, but when he appears as if he may land face first in the bowl of broth and noodles, Kate returns his late lunch to the fridge.

"Back to bed?" she inquires, but Rick is already sinking into the leather cushions, threatening to doze off before she can finish her question.

"We can watch a movie," he suggests, his eyes closed but his eyebrows hitched in anticipation of her answer.

"Because you can clearly stay awake for more than five minutes," Beckett mutters, returning to sit beside him on the couch.

"You don't have to stay," he murmurs, lifting his head from the sofa to meet her gaze. "You've already done so much and I've been so out of it the whole time-"

"Worried about the reputation of your hospitality?" she grins, reaching forward to touch the back of her hand to his forehead. Still warm, but so much better.

"Gates won't be happy about you missing a full day," he argues halfheartedly, nudging his forehead into the back of her hand, and she rolls her eyes, allows the cradle of her palm to cup his jaw.

The peace that claims his face at the action warms her heart and robs her lungs of air.

"We just closed a case this morning and the boys will cover for me for as long as they can," she assures him. "It's fine."

"Liar," he huffs, blinking to keep his eyes from dropping shut.

"For someone who wanted me to stay earlier, you're trying awful hard to get rid of me now," she teases, relaxing back against the arm of the couch, biting her lip to conceal the chuckle that rises in her throat when he tilts forward at the loss of her hand, jerking back when his balance nearly leaves him.

"I'm delirious with fever," he shoots back. "Nothing I say or do can be held against me."

Kate's eyebrows arch in amusement while he attempts to get comfortable on the large sectional that he refuses to take advantage of, remaining in his spot sitting up beside her.

"Castle, come here," she sighs, sitting up and taking hold of her 'delirious' partner's shoulder.

He's drifting back into the dazed state that had claimed him while she was tucking him into bed earlier, his eyes shifting into a clouded shade of blue as she eases his body towards her, delicately guiding his head to the makeshift pillow of her lap.

"Mm, this is nice," he hums, nuzzling her thigh and exhaling long and heavy in contentment, his hot breath penetrating the denim covering her knee. "Forget work. Stay forever."

A surprised breath of laughter breaches her lips, but her stomach lurches at that last word. _Forever_.

"Okay, Castle," she whispers in response, combing her fingers through the oily strands of his hair and returning to the planes and valleys of his back to rub soothing circles there with her palm.

"Really?" he murmurs, already fading and she smiles down at the exposed side of his face. "Thought we had to wait."

"Not much longer," she promises, the reassurance escaping her mouth before she can sanction it, but she finds that it's true. She wants to be better, wants to be _more_ , but she doesn't want to wait much longer. She doesn't think she can.

* * *

"Detective Beckett?" Her brow creases at the vaguely familiar voice, muffled and soft, laced with confusion. "Kate?"

Beckett blinks through the thick fog of sleep clouding her mind, attempts to stretch her stiff limbs, but finds herself trapped, anchored down to the leather sofa beneath her and oh… oh, she's on Castle's couch. And Castle is on top of her.

She isn't sure how they ended up like this, doesn't even recall falling asleep. She remembers sitting with his head in her lap, tracing the sleep slackened lines of his face with lazy fingers, remembers eventually reclining further into the cushions of his sinfully comfortable couch and situating her legs atop the cushions alongside the length of his body when they began to cramp, remembers daydreaming a little too much about a future with the man dozing in her lap. She must have drifted off sometime during those daydreams, must have shifted in her slumber to lie back more comfortably against the couch and apparently, she dragged along Castle with her.

His head was no longer pillowed by her lap, but by her chest, the broad wall of his upper body blanketing her torso and abdomen, his arms curled securely around her ribcage.

"Kate."

She startles, the voice from her waking mind looming over her now, ice blue eyes assessing her and the man sprawled across her with critique and curiosity clashing in her piercing gaze.

"Alexis." Beckett swallows, retracting her hands from their resting place of Castle's nape and attempting to dislodge Rick's arms from around her. The move only causes them to tighten, though, prompts him to cuddle her closer. Alexis's brow quirks. "H-hey."

"Hey," his daughter returns without a hint of amusement in her tone, like the disapproving parent Castle unintentionally allowed her to become.

"When did you get here?"

"I just walked through the door. I tried calling Dad earlier, but he never answered. I guess I know why now."

"No, Alexis, he was sick," Kate stammers out before his daughter's mind can jump to any more conclusions. "We just - he fell asleep after he managed to keep down the soup and I must have dozed off too."

The accusation in Alexis's eyes softens by just a fraction, the natural concern for her father overtaking. "Is he okay? Should I call a doctor?"

"No, no, he seems to be fine," Kate promises her, wishing she could ease out of Castle's grasp to have this conversation. Talking to his daughter while his face is buried against her breasts isn't exactly how she wants to assure Alexis of his well-being. "He showed up at the precinct with a fever earlier today so I drove him home, but I didn't want to leave him without anyone to look after-"

"You should have called me," Alexis mutters, crossing her arms and glancing down to her father. Kate is aware that his daughter is not her biggest fan, hasn't been ever since Castle tried to jump in front of a bullet for her and she rewarded him with three months of silence. She can't blame Alexis for hating her, but she had hoped since the incident at the bank, they had come to a tentative truce. "I could have taken care of him."

"I know," Kate murmurs, watching the girl's tense shoulders begin to sink just slightly, her defenses lowering the longer she stands there. "He knows that too. I was just already here and I didn't want to… I wanted to stay."

His daughter's eyes flash, flying back to her with a look of warning and challenge. "How long are you intending to stay?"

"Forever," Castle slurs, earning the attention of both women as he comes awake slowly, his lashes brushing Kate's clavicle as his eyes flicker open. It takes a moment, but sure enough, he stiffens a second later, lifting his head from her chest in surprise before wincing at the quick movement.

"More Tylenol?" Beckett murmurs, thoughtlessly carding her fingers through his hair, gauging the temperature of his body from the brush of her fingertips to his scalp before maneuvering into a sitting position while she has the chance. "You're still pretty warm."

"Yeah," Castle sighs, mimicking her and attempting to untangle his arms from the cage of her ribs, where she's sure he already heard the incessant flutter of her heartbeat like a bird trapped in its cage. "Maybe some more of that soup too."

"Has he been throwing up?" Alexis inquires and Castle blinks, jerks his gaze to his daughter, noticing her for the first time since he awoke.

"Pumpkin, how long have you been here?" he rasps, earning an affectionate eye roll.

"Just long enough," Alexis replies, returning her eyes to Kate for a breath of a second before pressing her fingers to her lips, leaning forward to smudge them to Castle's forehead. "Sorry, Dad. I haven't had my flu shot yet."

Castle huffs and Kate subdues her smile, but Alexis doesn't hide hers.

"He did earlier, but I think his stomach should be settled by now," Kate informs his daughter. "The soup is in the fridge, I'll warm it up and then I can go-"

"No, Kate, you should stay," Alexis insists, her chin held high and her eyes glimmering with something just shy of approval. Kate's brow rises in response, but his daughter shakes her head. "At least for dinner. I don't know how long you two have been… napping, but it's already seven, I'm sure you're starving."

"Seven?" Castle gapes, slumping back against the couch cushions. "I slept the entire day away."

"Dad, you're sick. That's what you're supposed to do," Alexis teases, turning on her heel and heading towards the kitchen.

"She's right, Castle," Kate murmurs, chuckling when he pouts at her.

"But you were here the entire day and I missed it," he whines, the sound scratchy and pitiful. "You were even in my bed at one point, weren't you? God, this is the worst."

"Castle," she hisses, smacking him lightly on the shoulder.

"At least I was aware of my surroundings when I woke up just now," he smirks, though the quirk of his lips turns sheepish when she pins him with a glare.

"Detect- Kate, your phone is bursting with notifications," Alexis calls from the kitchen and Beckett jerks from the couch, gnawing on her lower lip as she strides to join Alexis near the island where she left her phone after the food had been delivered.

Sure enough, the screen is alight with a cringeworthy amount of alerts. Kate scrolls through the iPhone's screen with her thumb, counting five calls, two voicemails, and thirteen text messages – all from the boys.

 _You owe us big time_ from Esposito being the latest to come in.

"I'm sorry, Kate." Castle's gentle voice, lowered to avoid the scrape of his abraded trachea, caresses the back of her neck and she glances over her shoulder to see his gaze trained on the screen of her phone, guilt dark and striking in his eyes.

"For what?" she hums, shifting to prop her hip against the island and placing the phone face down on the marble surface of the island in favor of grazing her fingers along the knuckles of his hand. "I chose to stay, Castle."

"But if I hadn't shown up at the precinct like an idiot-"

"Then I would have ended up coming over to check on you anyway, so what's the difference?" she demands softly, feeling his daughter's gaze skim over them just before the microwave beeps.

"Really?" he murmurs, surprise rippling through his eyes, spreading to his lips and tugging them upwards.

Beckett steals a glance in Alexis's direction, notices the girl digging in the silverware drawer for a clean spoon for the steaming bowl of soup now on the counter, so Kate rises on her toes, smears a quick kiss to his crooked grin.

Castle's hand flies to her waist the second her mouth touches his, but she's already descended back to the soles of her socked feet, recovered the respectable gap of distance between them just in time.

"Really," she affirms, smiling up at his slack jawed expression, feeling the butterflies riot in her ribcage. "Mind if I use your office to call Ryan and Espo?"

His head shakes, slow and with an expression of astonishment still claiming his features, causing him to appear almost as dazed as he had been earlier in the day when he could hardly stand up straight for more than two minutes.

"Soup's ready, I found some crackers that should go well with it too," Alexis chirps, skirting around the two of them with the tray of food and arranging it atop the breakfast bar. "I was going to order some Chinese for us, Kate. Is that okay with you?"

"Perfect," Beckett replies, placing her fingers beneath Castle's chin to return his jaw to its proper, closed position and nudging him towards the bar with her hip as she shifts away from the island with her phone in her grasp.

Rick finally makes his way to his daughter and the meal she's warmed up for him, but Kate feels his gaze remain on her throughout the long walk to his office.


	3. Chapter 3

"Did it go okay?"

Kate looks up from her staring match with the streetlights outside his office window, turning to find him standing in the doorway, a styrofoam container in his grasp.

"Alexis took her dinner upstairs. She has a test tomorrow, so she needs the extra time to study, but said to come get her if you need her," he informs her with an amused expression as he enters the room, placing the Chinese food on the edge of his desk. "Did Gates notice you were missing?"

"Yeah," she sighs, stepping away from the calming spot near the window and drifting towards him. He appears much better than he did twelve hours ago, the color steadily returning to his skin more and more with each hour, but she can still feel the unnatural warmth that radiates from his skin when she stands close enough, could still hear him falling into fits of coughing while she was on the phone with Ryan for the last half hour. "We caught a new case, but when I didn't answer my phone, the boys assumed I wouldn't be coming back, so they told Gates I had a family emergency."

"Kate-"

"It wasn't a lie," she shrugs, but while the subtle flicker of delight glimmers in his eyes, his lips still remain in a tight frown.

"Your work is important to you," he states, so much knowledge in the quiet words, and that isn't a lie either. She isn't proud of the way she abandoned her job today, but at the same time, it proved something to her.

"Yeah, but so are you," she murmurs, reaching forward to curl her fingers at his hips, hoping he can read the conviction in her gaze as she stares up at him. They've always been skilled in speaking to one another through fleeting looks and sidelong glances, always able to converse with their eyes sometimes better than with words; she hopes that still works now, when it truly counts. "My job means a lot to me, Rick. But you mean more."

The harsh breath he sucks in almost causes another round of intense coughing to begin.

"You kissed me," he rasps, covering the hands at his waist for a moment before choosing to glide tentative fingers up her arms, coiling them around her elbows instead.

"I did," she confirms with amusement flirting along the corners of her mouth.

"Please tell me you have your flu shot."

Gentle amusement blooms into a vibrant burst of laughter that has his lips splitting wide to match hers.

"Yeah, Castle. Flu shot, strong immune system, and some anti-cold medication if I need it," she assures him, feathering her hands at his sides. She wants to kiss him again, wants more than a fleeting brush of his mouth; she wants his body pressed against hers like it was only an hour before and she wants to be awake for it this time. "It feels like your fever has gone down a little."

"Sure about that?" he chuckles, catching her by the wrist when her hand rises to coast along his cheek, trapping her there as he turns to dust a kiss to her palm.

"Mm, pretty sure," she replies, curling her fingers as if she can catch his kiss in her hand, keep hold of it. "Definitely don't feel like a furnace anymore."

"Definitely feel the effects of it, though," he mutters, releasing her wrist and allowing her hand fall away, much to her displeasure. "After all the sweating and the puking, I don't know how you can stand being around me," he teases, but a true flare of self-consciousness arises in the sheepish twitch of his lips and Kate rolls her eyes.

"Like I mentioned earlier, I see dead bodies every day, Castle. You really think a common cold is going to scare me off?" she questions, toying with the fine silk hairs at the base of his skull, stroking through the soft locks and caressing the heated skin of his nape. "Why don't you have a bath?" she suggests. "I know a shower would probably be preferable, but you might get dizzy standing under the hot water and I'd really rather not have to explain that to Alexis too."

Castle chokes on a laugh, knocks his forehead to rest against hers.

"A bath sounds really great."

* * *

She picks at her Chinese food after they've parted ways in his office and he's relocated to the en suite bathroom. He had promised to call out if he needed anything, but that was fifteen minutes ago and she knows how heavenly a bath can be after a day of feeling gross and grimy, but she's growing selfishly impatient.

Kate rises from the couch in his office with the takeout container in her grasp, makes a mental note to thank Alexis for the meal as she strides out of his workspace, into the kitchen where she arranges it neatly in the fridge alongside the sandwiches still untouched and waiting to be consumed. But when she returns to his office, she hesitates in the threshold that would lead into his bedroom.

It isn't as if she hasn't spent time in his room, hell she spent time _in his bed_ , but lingering in the empty room without him is hardly appealing. Kate spares a glance at her father's watch, chewing on her bottom lip at the time. It's getting late, and she should really go back to her own apartment, prepare a plausible excuse for Gates for tomorrow morning, but she can't leave without saying goodbye, without ensure that he'll be okay for the night.

"Castle?" she calls, straying from the doorway of bookshelves and towards the closed bathroom door. "Rick? You okay in there?"

She holds her breath for three seconds, receives no answer, and feels her nerves clamor. His health may have improved from the earlier portion of the day, but he was still sick, still aching and tired. He could have fallen asleep in the tub, could have slipped beneath the water; he could be dead in a bathtub-

Kate shoves the door open, nearly trips over the pile of clothing on the floor in front of her, but her eyes immediately dart for the Jacuzzi style bathtub across the room, where Castle is in fact asleep, with his neck resting atop the rim of the tub. Alive and breathing, not immersed and lifeless beneath the sudsy water.

Beckett drops her forehead to the doorjamb and releases a quiet breath of relief. She hates to wake him, especially when he looks so peaceful, but she can't leave him to spend the night in bathtub either.

"Castle," she tries again from the doorway, repeating his name multiple times in varying tones, but when he fails to rouse, Kate is forced to venture further into his bathroom, attempting to forget that behind the shield of the tub, beneath the wall of water, he's naked. "Castle, wake up."

His eyes flicker behind his lids when she crouches by the tub, keeping her eyes trained strictly on his face, on the dark fringe of lashes kissing his cheeks, on the striking slope of his nose and the jut of his chin, the inviting flesh of his lips and the thin scar that mars the skin above his eyebrow.

Her fingers reach without her consent to caress the faded indention in his flesh and she wonders about the story behind it, wonders about a lot of his story that she has yet to learn.

Castle's eyes squint open while she's tracing his left eyebrow, skimming her thumbnail through the short hairs, and his lips instantly spill into a smile as his mind catches up with his vision.

"Beckett, you're still here," he sighs, so wistful and dreamy, and her own lips unfurl into a grin at the reaction. But once she trails her fingers down the side of his face, following the hard line of his jaw to coast down his neck until her hand encounters water and makes a quiet splash, his eyes go wide. "H-here while I'm – what are you doing in here?" he squeaks, sitting up in the lukewarm water and jerking his hands beneath the surface to cover his lower half.

Kate huffs at the movement that has water sloshing up to sprinkle the knee of her jeans. "You fell asleep in the bath," she informs him, involuntarily tracking the trickles of water spilling down his naked chest, clinging to his collarbones and dripping down the rungs of his ribs.

Castle clears his sore throat. "Kate."

Her eyes dart back to his face, to the man watching her with lust spreading slow but certain through the bright pools of his irises.

"Has the bath helped?" she gets out, averting her gaze to the wide ledge of the tub.

"Yeah, I uh – it helped clear out my sinuses and I feel pretty clean now," he replies with a similar level of difficulty.

He's sick and tired and she's still healing herself, still hiding behind a wall that has been crumbling more and more with each passing day. But now, after today, she's covered in dust and rubble.

She wants to feel clean too.

Kate reaches for the front of the tub, flipping the switch that will activate the drain with one hand and locating the hot water knob with the other. She can already hear Castle starting to stammer as the lukewarm bathwater drains away to be replaced by the freshly heated stream, hears him choke and stutter when she finds the hem of her sweater and tugs it over her head.

"Beck-Kate, Kate, what are you doing?" he demands on a strangled cough, but he isn't watching her anymore, hiding his eyes behind the barrier of his hands.

She smirks but doesn't answer, not yet, unbuttoning her jeans and peeling them from her legs, unfastening her bra and stepping out of her panties. It isn't until she's dipping her toes into the water, sending waves lapping at his chest, that he spreads his fingers, peeking at her through the slits of his digits.

"Wow, you're - and I - I'm hallucinating," he chokes out, his chest rising and falling a little faster now as he visibly struggles to keep his gaze trained on her face, and Kate huffs, sinking down to slip into the scalding embrace of hot water and dissipating bubbles and him. "I can't - I thought there was the - the wall?"

He swallows hard, watching her with arousal and caution, with hope and a terrified look of uncertainty that she wants to eradicate with the stroke of her tongue and the press of her body.

"There is no wall, not anymore," she replies, refraining from the temptation of settling in his lap, afraid he might actually faint from the overload of sensations. So instead, she manages to coerce his body forward, making enough room for her to ease in behind him in the large tub, skins brushing beneath the water until her back is pressed to the curved wall of the tub and his back is against her chest, his body cradled between her thighs. "Castle, I don't want to wait anymore."

His hands curl around the ankles between his knees, thumbs gliding back and forth over the protruding bones. "I think I can tell."

Kate hides her smile in the slick skin of his shoulder, opens her mouth there and licks up the beads of moisture decorating his flesh. A shudder races down his spine and his hands squeeze, migrating to clench at her calf muscles now. He's quiet for a moment, and she uses the silence to her advantage, to touch and explore.

Her arms are hooked around his torso, her hands splayed at his sternum, so many rigid muscles and hard bones beneath her palms, but she glides them away from the pleasant resting place, drawing them back so she can lift her hands to his hair. A low hum rumbles through his chest, reverberates through his frame into hers, as she cards her dripping fingers through his hair, scraping her short nails along his scalp, skimming over the heated cartilage of his ears.

He's still tense, even with the entirety of her body wrapped around him, but she doesn't push, waits for the words she knows lie in wait to make the journey past his lips.

"But Kate, tell me… this isn't – is this just because of today?" he questions, his voice weak with more than illness. "Because I don't want it if that's what it is. I want all of you, everyday, not pity-"

"Pity?" she echoes, shock rippling through the word, colliding with the tinge of hurt she fails to swallow down. Her hands slip from his hair, falling away to sink beneath the water. "You think… you think I'd be here, that I would have done any of today out of pity?"

His palms cup her knees. "No, but I have to be sure."

Kate urges him to sit up, watching the water slosh and the tension climb his spine, coil tight in his shoulder blades, physically bracing himself for a rejection she doesn't plan to give, for more pain she refuses to inflict. He isn't prepared when she straddles his lap, groaning at the intimate press of her body into his and splaying his hands over the bow of her spine as she cups his face in her dripping palms, slants her mouth over his and sips slow and reverently from his lips.

She doesn't push for more than the work of his lips against hers, for the taste of his tongue and the stroke of his hands at her naked back, but after a few minutes too long of making out in his bathtub, Kate breaks away for breath. Though, it's fruitless, his eyes steal it away again the moment she opens hers – so dark and needful, so hungry and beautiful.

Kate reaches for the lever that triggers the drain once more, clutches his forearms as she finds her balance on the slick floor of the tub and stands, tugging him up with her and holding him steady by the hips until the risk of dizziness evaporates. For the first time in the four years she's known him, he's wordless.

Rick hands her a towel once they exit the tub together, but she doesn't wrap herself in the fluffy and enticing white material, merely brushing the water absorbing fabric along her skin so that she is no longer dripping. Her hands claim him again then, her fingers meeting with his to twine, her legs guiding her backwards, leading him out of the bathroom and into the familiar setting of his bedroom. But once they're standing at the edge of his bed, he hesitates, his fingers squeezing in hers.

"Kate-"

She untangles their hands and elevates on her toes, reclaiming the height she's lost without her heels, cradles his skull in her hands. He doesn't stop her when she presses another kiss to his mouth, holding her there with those tentative hands she loves so much fluttering at her waist, maddening. Slow is not usually how she prefers to do this, but with him, the languid dance of lips comes natural, the leisurely stroke of her tongue in his mouth so very satisfying, and oh, she could make love to his mouth alone if it's all he wants tonight.

But if the thud of his heart hammering in his chest to meet hers as she presses up against him is any indication, he wants more. He wants everything.

And so does she.

"You need to be sure?" she pants, laving her tongue along her bottom lip, savoring the taste of him lingering there. She nudges him with her knee, succeeds in performing a controlled descent onto the bed with him lying beneath her. The tension drains from his body, uncertainty replaced with blossoming confidence as she settles atop him and his hands finally begin to roam her skin with intent. "Then let me assure you."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This chapter is rated M. Apologies for the lack of advanced warning in the previous chapter, but for those who wish to skip the mature content, T rating will be back for chapter five.**

* * *

Castle's hands roam from her waist to cradle her face, angling her mouth for a deeper kiss while she urges closer, unable to feel close enough even with their chests flush and their legs tangling.

"Kate," he gasps, fisting a hand in her hair, trying to steady her. Probably a good idea, they should probably slow down, but she's been craving this for months, years really, and his skin is so warm, his body so electric and inviting. But Kate forces herself to take a breath, their noses clashing as she rests her forehead to his. "I need to sit up."

Her brow furrows against his, confusion and concern, and just a hint of hurt, instantly swirling through her mind as she draws away, gives him the space he needs to push up onto his elbows.

"My nose," he explains, a lopsided grin lacing along his lips. "Helps keep the nasal passages clear if I'm upright."

"Shit, Castle, I'm sorry," she murmurs, sitting back on his thighs and feeling the shame flush her cheeks once his back is propped against the headboard. "I should have known-"

"You were preoccupied, so was I," he mumbles, reclaiming his grip on her hips and dragging her forward. Her lips quirk as she rises on her knees, hovers above him, the wet tips of her hair skimming along his clavicle. "I wouldn't have even noticed, I was already having a hard time breathing."

His brow waggles, mischievous and playful, and a laugh slips past her lips.

"Just don't pass out on me, Castle," she hums, drifting forward to dust her lips to that intriguing little scar above his left eyebrow. "Your age already presents a certain risk factor-"

Her teasing is cut off by a sharp intake of air when his hands cover her breasts, his palms branding and his fingers devastating as they find her nipples, rolling and pinching the taut peaks between his thumb and forefinger. Frissons of heat spread from the tips of her breasts, currents of electricity running through her bones and jolting down her spine.

"Which of us is at risk of passing out again?" he husks, nipping at the jut of her chin before replacing the work of one of his hands with his mouth.

Her reaction is instantaneous, uncontrollable, and her body bows over him, her arms lifting to slither around his neck, fingers threading through his hair. His tongue sears her skin as it circles, swirls and flicks over the bud of her nipple, and her spine arches at the sensation. His unoccupied hand spans at her lower back, aiding her in retaining her balance while the other kneads at her breast, sends intense flares of heat shooting straight to the pit of her abdomen.

She's so lost in the sensation, her eyes screwed shut and her lips busy with quiet moans of encouragement in his ear, she almost doesn't notice the trail of his hand down her sternum, grazing her stomach, and then lower...

Her nails pierce his scalp when his hand cups her, his fingers gliding through the thick arousal and caressing the needy flesh between her legs.

"Kate," he breathes against the top of a breast, his voice full of wonder, as if he can't quite believe how wet she is, how _ready_ she is.

"It's nothing new," she manages to get out, burying her whimper against his temple as his fingers stroke and his thumb circles, tremors of need erupting from her core and spreading through her bloodstream. "Not - not for you. Always like that for you."

His kiss is desperate when he lifts his head to find her lips, all consuming, his teeth clashing with hers, and she leans further into him for more. But the scorching length of him brushes her stomach when she does, and Kate trails a hand down his abdomen, until he's throbbing and hard against her palm.

"It's mutual," he grits out, practically _growling_ as she strokes, and evoking a fresh wave of arousal through her body. "Kate. Too - too fast. Over too fast if you keep that up."

"You'll tell me if you need to stop?" she asks, her hand stilling between them and her eyes rising to meet his in question. And he better tell her now, better tell her before she falls past the point of no return here. "Your body's still weak, don't want to-"

"Yes, I promise," he swears, coiling his fingers around her wrist, but she's already guiding him in closer to where she needs him, coating him in the slickness between her legs.

Her knees astride his hips, she sinks into his lap, no barriers between them, and finally _finally_ shifts to take him inside. Castle's hands grip the backs of her thighs, bruising as he fills her inch by painstaking inch, sighing against her cheek once their bodies are tightly joined, no space left between them.

She needs a second, just a moment to catch her breath that he seems to appreciate, taking a moment himself to feather his lips to the scar between her breasts, over her heart. A shiver trembles down her spine at the brush of a kiss, but her entire body stills when his lips begin to move again, mumbling silent words over the puckered flesh, words she can recognize the shape and feel of even without the sound. Words she's heard once before.

"Love you too," Kate breathes, smearing a kiss to the shell of his ear before she begins to move.

Shock ripples through his frame and her muscles clamp tighter around him, jerking a moan from them both, but his hand comes to her nape, clutches there.

"Love me?" he demands on a choked breath, holding to her even as her body continues to rise and fall over him.

Her arms wind around his neck, seeking some form of leverage as she attempts a nod, her lungs ready to burst, unable to aid her mouth in producing breath, let alone words. But then his body is drawing back against the mattress, his leg muscles tensing with effort, and he's matching her rhythm, pulling back and thrusting in, and the breath surges out of her.

"Yes, _yes,_ I love you. How do you not know that?" she groans, scraping her teeth at his jaw, over the day old stubble collected there.

"We don't have the best communication skills," he grinds out, his mouth open and hot at the column of her throat. "If you haven't noticed."

"Fix it," she hums, twisting her hips in a move that has him jerking her closer, cradling her at the same time. "Fix it later - oh, _fuck_ , Castle. Harder."

She follows her own command, riding him harder, faster, their hips clashing, his thrusts growing shallow and sharp while the cadence of her body over his turns sloppy, uncoordinated. She buries her sob in his neck as the ripples of pleasure pulse through her in rhythmic waves, a flood of light and heat and beautiful, overwhelming sensation that has her shattering in his arms.

Her climax is fast and sharp, breathtaking, but she still manages to gasp the " _So in love with you, Castle_ ," against his throat, and she's certain that is what drags Rick over the edge of blissful combustion with her.

Kate slumps against him, held together by the clutch of his arms, and listens to the arrhythmia of his heartbeat thudding through his chest, beating hard and strong.

"Mm, we're good at that," she murmurs, humming approval into the hollow of his throat as he hooks the edge of the bed sheet with his foot, drags the Egyptian cotton up to cover them both from the waist down. "Feeling okay?"

"Oh yes," he drawls, tracing the line of her spine with his fingertips. "Better, actually."

Kate chuckles, unhooks her arms from around his neck to curl between them. "Probably should pop another Tylenol or two, for when the afterglow of sex wears off and your fever spikes again."

"In a minute, don't want to move right now," Castle mumbles, shifting away from the headboard despite his words, lowering their tangled bodies to lie flat with her still sprawled atop him.

"Don't want to or can't?" she teases, tilting her head back against his shoulder to smirk up at him.

His half lidded eyes spark with challenge. "I'm not the only one looking worn out here. Your breathing hasn't even steadied yet."

Her cheeks flush. "Shut up. You're still delirious with fever."

"Oh no, Beckett," he murmurs, his lips curling up in the corners as he eases his knee between both of hers and smoothly rolls them over. He rises to his elbows above her, sweeps back the sweat-dampened strands of hair from her forehead. "Having you for a nurse has been extremely beneficial to my health."

"You're still sick," she points out, grazing her hand up and down his bare side, relishing in the rise and fall of his ribcage beneath her palm. "You need to rest."

"Yeah," he concurs, but his lips stray to the corner of her eye, the bone of her cheek, before his open mouth fuses with hers. "But I'm currently well enough to do what we just did one more time."


	5. Chapter 5

"Should have taken the anti-cold medication, Beckett."

She growls at him and tugs the comforter to her chin, but his hand is rubbing those soothing circles on her back like they have been for the last three days and her aching bones relax, sink deeper into the memory foam mattress. Where she has spent a large majority of the last week and a half.

"Feel awful," she rasps, attempting to clear her throat and failing, feeling the coughing spell rioting sharp and angry in her chest. She wheezes as she turns further away from him, burying her cough in her elbow. Rick combs her hair away from her face while her lungs rattle against her ribs, holds the strands in a ponytail secured by his fingers at her nape and continues carding his free hand along her scalp, through the oily locks that evade his grip. "Probably look awful too."

Kate listens to him scoff at her back before he leans closer, drops a kiss to the skin of her shoulder, where his t-shirt leaves the bone exposed. She knows by now that when it comes to them, looks have fallen low on the scale of importance, overruled by a connection that's only grown stronger within the last four years, but it's only been a mere week and a half, not even a full two weeks since she finally joined him on the other side of her wall, since she dipped her toes in sudsy bathwater with him and found she had been dying to dive in all along.

Though, she wouldn't have minded a little bit of time to enjoy the bliss that comes with embarking on a relationship first before allowing him to see her at her worst.

"I'll admit, the green pallor to your skin isn't your best look," he murmurs, sweeping her hair over the opposite shoulder once the heaving of her ribs has ceased, grinning against her nape when she weakly tries to elbow him away for the remark. "But you're still hot."

"With fever," she mutters.

He huffs, his breath cool as it puffs along her skin. "Still the most gorgeous woman I could wake up next to."

His voice softens over those last words, the teasing giving way to sincerity that still tends to make her a little skittish, but fills her heart with warmth too, with reassurance and certainty that crushes the doubts before they can bloom into nagging thorns of insecurity.

Kate reaches back, searches for his hand amidst the mess of sheets at her hip, and brings his knuckles to her lips. She keeps his hand tucked beneath her chin as she descends back to lie on her side, submerged back in the comfort his bed has offered her for the last two weeks.

But time in his bed had been more than comforting in the beginning. It had been _fun_ , exhilarating to entangle herself in his sheets, in him, to find peace and contentment in his space. That is, until her throat had become dry and scratchy, her nose stuffy and useless, and her head thick with dizzying exhaustion. The fever and the stiffness in her bones had come shortly after, and at first, she hadn't caught it, hadn't understood why her body was turning on her without reason. Until the obvious conclusion dawned on her.

Apparently, a flu shot and a strong immune system had been worthless against intimate contact.

She had caught Castle's cold.

"Before you pass out on me, I made you some toast if you think you can handle it," he coaxes from her back and with her face half hidden by the comforter, Kate lets the smile claim her lips for a brief moment, wonders if he can feel it with his hand beneath her chin, if he can sense it in that creepy yet endearing way he's always managed to.

"Just gimme a minute," she slurs, listening to him sigh, but he doesn't push, doesn't try to lecture her. He lowers himself to lie behind her, fits the front of his body to her back and snakes an arm around her waist, draws patterns along the length of her abdomen.

Within minutes, the comforting position she's grown to love will overheat her and she'll have to squirm away in wordless askance that he'll follow without question, but for now, she embraces the surrounding warmth of him, appreciates it.

He's good to her, aware of what she needs, whether it be a hot meal or a few extra Tylenol to lower the fever, a warm bath or simply some space from his hovering presence, and for the first time in over a decade, she doesn't mind having someone around to take care of her.

"Gates is going to kill me," she mutters into her pillow, peeling her eyes open and blinking away the grit gathered in the corners of her lids. She's slept so much in the last 24 hours, slept hard and long, and though her body won't let her accomplish much, consuming a piece of toast sounds like an attainable goal for the morning. "Already missed a day, and then last week too-"

"Kate, you can spare a couple of days every now and then. You've hardly taken time off all year," Castle reminds her, easing his hand from beneath her chin to brush away the sweaty strands of hair that clung to her forehead throughout the restless night.

She had woken yesterday with his cold from nearly a week ago seeping into her pores and constricting her lungs, beating within the confines of her skull and clinging to her skin even in the shower where she had hoped the scalding water and soothing steam would wash the feeling away. But within the same hour, she had ended up hunched over the toilet bowl with Castle holding her hair back.

It takes some energy, far more effort than she would like, but Kate rolls over until she's met with the firm line of his outer thigh. She presses her forehead there, hums at the relief that spreads through her skull from the pressure and the accompanying comb of Castle's fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp.

"Your cold passed in two days," she grumbles, nuzzling deeper into his touch despite her indignation. "Mine should have at least receded by now."

"We're all different," he shrugs. "And the worst of it was over in two days, but you know it still hung around for the rest of that week."

She manages a noise of acknowledgement, recalling the days that followed after the worst of his cold had struck. She had hated leaving for the precinct the next morning without him, especially after the night they had spent together, but she had returned to his loft by the end of the day, received a subtle but approving nod from his daughter who had answered her knocks on the front door, and spent the rest of her evening taking care of him. In every way she knew how.

"Oh." He snaps his fingers and she grunts at him for it, the crack of noise reverberating through her skull. "But we haven't tried the one remedy that I'm almost positive cured me."

Her lips curl against his thigh at that. "Castle, if anything, that _remedy_ is what caused this."

"I don't remember you complaining," he hums, and she doesn't have to look to know his mouth is splitting with pride, that his eyes are flickering with vivid recollection.

"Not complaining," she yawns, forcing her elbows into the mattress and pushing up. Castle subtly assists, curling an arm around her waist to help her find a balance that will hold, anchoring her as the room tilts and sways. Her stomach rolls for a second and Kate holds her breath, waiting for the brief nausea to recede. "If I didn't feel like I was going to pass out, I'd take you again right now."

His chuckle is soft against the crown of her head. "I love it when you talk dirty to me, Beckett."

The click of the front door shutting rouses her, reminds her that falling to rest against Castle's chest was not her objective.

"Toast," she mumbles, but the footsteps resounding through his office distract her and she glances up to see his daughter entering the open doorway with a white paper bag and a pill bottle in her hand.

"Hey guys," Alexis chirps, though she offers a sympathetic look when her gaze lands on Kate. "I picked up the Tylenol and the soup like you asked, Dad."

"Castle, don't make her run errands for me," Kate sighs, wincing at the fire cascading down her throat as she swallows.

"Well, technically, it was an errand for me," he points out, accepting the takeout bag and the bottle of Tylenol clutched in Alexis's palm.

"It's no problem, Kate," Alexis assures her, reaching out to squeeze Beckett's shoulder with a reaffirming grip that has Kate's chest feeling a little lighter. Ever since the day his daughter walked in to find them intertwined on the couch, a welcome shift has occurred in what was once a bitter relationship between acquaintances. No longer does Alexis eye her with resentment and wariness, no longer does she expect Beckett to handle her father's heart so carelessly. Kate isn't certain what solidified it in Alexis's mind, but within the last two weeks, she has gained his daughter's approval, as well as her friendship. "I had the day off anyway. To avoid being the next person to fall ill, though, I may head over to Paige's for a while."

"That's fine, Pumpkin," Castle responds, uncoiling his arm from around Kate to ensure that the soup makes a safe deposit to the nightstand. "Just text me if you need anything. I'll be here with Kate all day, but if you need me to-"

"Dad, I promise to text you if I need you, but really, I'll be fine," Alexis assures him, already drifting towards the wall of bookshelves and even through the fog of fever and the unpleasant sensation of her throbbing corneas, Kate notices the moment his smile dims, the gravity of his little girl all grown up making itself known.

Beckett relocates his hand atop the sheets while Alexis spares a glimpse to the gaping mouth of the bag hanging from her shoulder, digging through the purse to find her phone, and Castle accepts the cover of her palm with the embrace of his fingers, offers her a grateful squeeze.

"And the same goes for you two, text me if you need anything else. I'll be home before dinner if you want me to pick something up," Alexis suggests, but Castle shakes his head.

"I was actually thinking of cooking tonight. I've been browsing through recipes-"

"While you should have been writing," Kate mumbles, attempting to straighten up against the pillows and the headboard at her back, but involuntarily tilting towards Castle and propping her shoulder against his to guarantee her body will remain upright.

"Do not belittle the importance of my culinary findings. I intend to concoct a meal that will not only be delicious, but also beneficial to your sore throat and current sinus issues," he informs her with a proud smirk that has Alexis chuckling.

"I'm intrigued to see it, Dad. Talk to you guys later, feel better, Kate."

"Thanks again, Lex," Kate murmurs, earning a kind nod and a genuine smile from the girl while she turns on her two inch heels, strides out of the room leaving a flash of red hair and the violet fabric of her sweater smeared across Kate's vision.

"I'm not sure what changed between you two, but I'm really glad my kid adores you again," Castle admits once the front door has clicked shut.

Kate releases a quiet breath of laughter and turns further into his side, resisting the ridiculous urge to curl up against the broad wall of his chest like a child.

"I think when she saw us, saw me stick around while you were sick and even when you were better, it proved something to her," Kate explains on an exhale, lifting the heavy weight of her head from his shoulder – God, she's so out of it. She doesn't even remember lowering her temple to the rounded bone – and blinks up at him. She's coherent, she is, but she's also drained, on the verge of collapsing back into the mattress, and she wants to ensure his understanding of this before she does. "I think she saw that I loved you. And I think that was enough for her."

Castle's hand rises to cradle her jaw, his eyes so blue and lovely in the spill of late morning sunlight leaking in through the blinds, and for a wonderful handful of seconds, she forgets all about the misery laced along her bones, layering her skin. For a long moment, her focus is only on him and the way he looks at her, gazes down at her with the love and adoration she's worked so hard to feel worthy of.

And it's such a beautiful revelation he's brought her to within the last two weeks, that she was worthy of it all along.

"Love you too, Kate," he murmurs, grazing his thumb along the thin skin beneath her eye, slowing at the kiss of her lashes to his fingertip.

She reaches out with her free hand, eyes still closed but the rest of her senses awake and relishing in the presence of him, in the warmth and the scent of his aftershave and the coffee he had earlier in the morning. Her hand unfurls at his chest, her palm blossoming over his heart to feel its strength.

"Stay like this," she whispers, feathering her fingers down along the ripples of his ribs.

The hand that isn't busy supporting her jaw, caressing the blade of her cheek, splays at her back with the arm that hooks around her waist, draws her in until she's practically curled up in his lap and it feels so nice, so snug and secure, she doesn't care that it makes her feel coddled and childlike. Not anymore.

"For how long?" Castle asks, his breath breezing through the wisps of hair at her forehead.

She sighs, knows he's only asking for the sake of her soup and the toast still left untouched next to it on the nightstand, but her lips quirk with memory and Kate peels her eyes open to meet the swirling sea of his. "Forever."


End file.
